“If it tastes half as good as it looks, I’m going to love it.”
She smiled at the compliment and topped up their wine glasses, then untied her apron and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. Tom stole a glance at the capri trousers and silky t-shirt she wore, and which had been mostly hidden beneath the apron until now. Her outfit was summery and sleek, the shirt fabric clinging to her body in a way that made his mouth go dry.
Get. A. Grip.Tom took a long glug of wine, because alcohol would help, obviously.
Once they were seated again, Carole served them both salad and they dealt with their chosen dressings.
“Okay, I think the lasagne should’ve cooled down enough to eat it,” she said. “Fingers crossed.”
Tom scooped up some lasagne and ate it. The meat sauce was rich and savoury, the white sauce smooth and velvety, and together with the silky pasta it tasted amazing.
“This is delicious, Carole,” he said, already forking up more of the meal. “You promised passable lasagne. This isn’t just passable. It’s fantastic.”
Her smile showed how pleased she was by his compliment. “I’m glad you like it. And I’m glad you let me cook for you tonight. It’s not just about saying thanks again for all your help with my dad at the weekend. It’s also nice to get to know you better, Tom.”
“It’s nice to get to know you better too, Carole.” The candlelight danced in her eyes, and for a long beat Tom couldn’t look away. “I mean, weareneighbours and, er, it’s nice to know your neighbours.”
“Agreed.”
They shared a smile over their wine glasses. Tom wondered if he was imagining the lingering look she gave him.
Yes, you’re imagining it. Eat your dinner and drink your wine and then go home.
“So, how’s your week on the NHS frontline going so far?” he asked.
Her smile shifted and a look of resigned weariness crossed her face. “It’s been a tough one, actually. Every one of the clinics I’ve run this week has been short staffed, which means a lot of last-minute juggling of appointment slots and quite a bit of chaos. I hate letting down the patients who really need our help, and ended up working late the last three days to make sure everyone was seen.”
“That sounds hard.”
“It’s just the way it is. There are too many demands on our services and not enough resources to meet them. These new mental health programmes I’m working on are making a big impact on patients’ well-being, I know that for a fact, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of challenges along the way. Even with extra money attached to these programmes, we’re still up against growing demand on the services.”
She gave a little shrug and added, “But it is what it is. We do the best we can with what we have. I used to get much more upset about the limits on the services we could provide, but that just left me exhausted and frustrated. Now, no matter how tough a day I’ve had and no matter the challenges I’ve faced, I make a point of reminding myself that I worked as hard as I could to help my patients and that’s all I can do. Then, I start again the next day with a smile on my face and determined to make a difference. That keeps me going.”
“It sounds like a rewarding job to have, being able to help people facing mental health issues.”
“Some people need a lot more help than others, but I know that the therapies we use do help. For some of our patients, the help we offer might mean they finally find the strength andstrategies they need to take the first steps towards managing the anxiety and depression they’ve struggled with for years. From those small first steps they can, and often do, take even bigger steps and eventually make other changes in their lives that are positive and that they didn’t think were ever possible.”
“That must make you proud, to know you’ve made a difference.”
“Not proud so much as… happy to know I can use my skills and training to help people who really need it. Whenever I’m ready to tear my hair out because of a lack of resources or staffing problems or any of the hundreds of other problems we face, I just focus on the fact that what I do, and what our brilliant team of mental health specialists does, it all helps.”
Looking up from her plate, she gave him a coy grin. “Of course, the plentiful supply of chocolate biscuits we keep stocked in our staff room gives me some extra encouragement when I need it, too.”
Tom laughed. “It sounds like you all deserve at least that much to help you get through the day.”
“Some of our patients are very kind and bring packets of biscuits along to contribute to the talking therapy group sessions I set up recently. In fact, they’re a bit competitive and determined to out-do each other with their contributions. We’re awash in Penguins and Orange Clubs at the moment. Not that I’m complaining.”
Tom listened as she talked a little more about the talking therapy groups she’d set up since starting her new job with the health trust. Considering she’d only arrived in the post a few weeks ago, she’d hit the ground running, and he liked hearing her talk about the work she was doing and the new initiatives she was testing to get the most out of the health services on offer.
She was careful to talk in generalities and avoid betraying any patient confidentiality, but it was clear that her commitment to her career and to the patients under her care was total.
The passionate way she spoke about her work was captivating. Seeing her animated expression as she talked about her determination to help people find their way towards better mental health made him want to sit here all night listening to her talking.
“Anyway, that’s enough about me,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I’ve been talking for ages and you must be bored listening to me going on and on. What’s been happening with you this week? Any big things going on at work?”
“After last week’s trip to Manchester, I was playing catch-up back at the office,” he said. “We’ve got some new products and service plans coming online in the next couple of months which I need to be ready to start selling, so I spent the week working on that.”
“Sounds exciting.”
